We are authors of delicious romance, and we want to share our experiences and the things we love with the world!

We have our own Yahoo Group! You are welcome to come and join. We have chats from time to time, and generally have a great time!

Visitors

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Em Petrova Is "Untouched"

Seven Sexy Scribes has a special treat today, the wonderful
Em Petrova is our guest! Em writes some of the hottest stuff out there that also
has plenty of heart. Her writer’s voice is clean and fresh, and she makes it
look easy. It’s her birthday week too so give Em and yourself a little gift and
treat yourself to a Em Petrova book today. (Wink) we have an excerpt from her
latest book “Untouched” that might just turn your key. So if you’re ready to
sample a darker shade of chocolate, here we go…

Kink Me Up

By Em Petrova

As an erotic romance author, I spend a LOT of time thinking
about sex. In fact, there are days I live, eat, breathe, and watch sex. I’m
always looking into fun new ways for my characters to connect. To me, realism
is best, though. I could read about the sexiest BDSM ever but deep down, I know
I’ll never play in that way. Yet I’m not exactly vanilla.

I know a lot of you fall into this category. Let’s call
ourselves Dark Chocolates—decadent and rich. So what happens when your partner
is milk chocolate or even cookies and cream? Well, we have to spoon-feed him
bits of dark chocolate at a time to get him accustomed to it.

How do you ask for more kink?

1.Play
teacher. Let him walk in on you draped in a silk cloth. Then ask him to tie you
up with it. Make sure you have a safe word—always! If either of you are
uncomfortable, it’s not going to be a good experience.

2.Read
a hot book. I happen to know an author who writes scorching hot sex. *wink*
Read a passage aloud to your lover or let him read over your shoulder. Bounce
your foot while reading and say, “Listen to this, babe.”

3.Turn
on the tube. Yep—instead of connecting by turning off the TV, tune in to a sexy
flick together. Find something that pushes both of your boundaries and ask what
makes him hot.

Mason
choked the engine of his chainsaw and adjusted it until it was purring. Much
like Eva last night.

The
vibrations of the saw ran up his arms and through his shoulders. He squinted up
at the treetop, assessing it once more. Never could be too careful. Loggers
died every year. Even those with a ton of experience like him had accidents.

He tried
to shift his night with Eva from his mind so he could focus on bringing down
this white oak. The top was heavy on the right side but he didn’t want it to
fall that direction. If it did, it would take out a solid thirty-incher that
could be cut in a second wave.

He wanted
this particular tree to shoot the gap he’d cleared to the left, which meant
some fancy saw work was needed.

The wind
was nonexistent and the air still after his regular faller, Tommy Cook, had
just felled a tree. Two hundred yards away, he was busy select cutting too.

Mason
approached the tree and set his saw blade at an angle. The teeth cut through
the thick bark and wood like a hot knife through butter. He pulled the blade
back and dug in again, drawing the saw upward to cut a wedge from the trunk.
Wood dust showered his arms and coated the backs of his gloves. It burned his
nose and he sniffed deeply, loving the scents of the sap and the pull of
exertion in his veins.

Using the
point of his saw, he tapped the notch he’d cut. It dropped to the forest floor
soundlessly, disappearing into the shallow drift of snow around the trunk.
Circling the tree, Mason set his boots precisely, prepared to jump back in the
event that the log kicked out.

Then,
glancing around quickly to ensure no one was within distance of this tree, he
set the blade at an angle on the backside of the cut. As the trunk was severed
in two, it tipped. Cracking and popping noises sounded even through his hearing
protection. He felt the smile of satisfaction spread across his face.

With a
scream, the white oak plummeted, the top branches ripping through the limbs of
other trees, brushing them in farewell. It slammed to earth with a resounding
wallop.

A cheer
went up from across the clear-cut. Mason looked up to find Tommy sending him a
wave of camaraderie. He cut the power on his saw and thwacked his hands against
his thigh to dislodge the sawdust from his gloves. The cracked brown leather
gloves had been his father’s and one of the only things Mason had saved of the
man’s personal possessions.

He’d found
them on a high shelf in the entryway. Drawing them down, he’d brought them to
his nose and inhaled the tang of leather and sawdust. Both scents he associated
with his dad.

He set his
saw on the fallen trunk and pulled off his glove. A shock tore through him as
the sweet aroma of Eva’s arousal struck him. He’d spent all night loving her.
Even this morning he’d fingered her to completion before allowing her to climb
from his bed. Christ, he could hardly wait to get home to see if his sheets
smelled of her.

He’d
barely kept himself from begging her to stay longer. Returning her to Osborn’s
house to pick up her little car had spurred that deep possessiveness in him
again. Osborn had come outside to harass them about where they’d gone. Mason
had put a stop to it, but not before Eva was as flushed as a Christmas rose.

He brought
his fingers to his nose and inhaled. His balls clenched instantly at the scent
of her he caught there. He’d promised to call her later tonight, but he felt
like a goddamn teenager, dying to pick up the cell and call her now.
Immediately.

What was
she doing? Now that he knew she had a child to care for, he envisioned her in
several different scenarios—the boy nestled on her lap as she read a story or
seated on the floor building a block tower with him.

Why hadn’t
he seen it before? She wore her motherhood like she displayed her femininity.
She was always caring for people. Even hand-feeding Osborn a tartlet last
night.

Mason wanted
to jump in his truck and race to her house right now, and that scared the hell
out of him. He’d never known such longing, even with his ex-wife. Eva and his
ex were like heartwood and rotted wood though. One was strong and beautiful,
something wood connoisseurs prized. Mason knew heartwood when he saw it.

Trouble
was, he wasn’t going to stick around Salzburg Springs for long. He’d already
contacted the company he’d left when his dad died a year ago and been told he
always had a job with them. In fact, they wanted him as soon as possible. His
roots weren’t firmly entrenched in western Pennsylvania, but they were plunging
deeper after last night.

He
mentally kicked himself. He never should have toyed with Eva. She deserved much
more than a bachelor with a bent for rough play in bed.

Fires
flared in him at the memory of her response to that heavy hand. She’d come
unglued when he pinched her nipples so hard. And her skin had lifted to him
when he tugged on her hair. How far could he push her?